House of Memories
by bloodxlotus
Summary: AU. Rukia is a prisoner, hurt and hopeless. Who will save her? No one, because her captor is the strongest vampire of them all...


**A/N: **OK. This oneshot is 1) EXTREMELY OOC, and 2) this might be very offending to some Byaruki fans. But, I didn't know what other pairing to put this under, so here it is. Feel free to criticize! :D

Title: House of Memories

Genre: Angst/Horror

House of Memories

It was the home of immense pain and suffering; screams littered the air continuously, but those crying pleas were always disregarded. The walls were filthy from a mixture of dirt, blood, and dust while the dead wooden floorboards creaked piteously. But even with all the disgust, they were the only things that head those miserable cries. Dolorous were the lonely inhabitants of the place; the only ones allowed in or out of the small wooden building were those who, with the exchange of money, took part in the temporary satisfaction that was built on top of the sacrifice of others. Only those of secrecy knew the location of this place, otherwise, it was a heavily wooded area that was seldom ventured into, secluded from the rest of the modern world. This was the last of the Brothels of Satan, the only one to have gone undetected for centuries after the War— the most horrific of them all.

Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, the workers had to work. Every morn, the keeper gave them three slices of bread and ale for the day; then they were left to themselves. Usually there were only about three or four customers who added together totaled to about five hours a day, but the simultaneous pain and ecstasy were intense. The customers had no names; they came and left without identity, unless they purposely exposed their identities. It was once said that the Devil himself visited in their forms, but that speaker was silenced long ago. Thus, the rumor was abandoned.

Such was the place Rukia was born in. It was the same place she worked at, even now after her mother had died—and it was the only place she had ever known. Young and frightened, she was a choice of most interest. And her customers were terribly ruthless and relentless. This was her anathema, fated to serve those priests of Satan, the timeless Lords of the Vampire community. It was definitely a wonderful…_honor_.

The door creaked open, and she looked up woefully.

She stared silently at him, the man—no, the _monster_ that walked in.

She shivered at hearing every soft hollow step he made…he came closer and closer until he was standing tyrannically above her.

Suddenly, he lurched forward towards her kneeling form. She didn't fight back; instead she reached out to him and forced her body to slump against that cruelly familiar body of his. It was cold and lifeless, and the scariest thing of all was that it lacked a heartbeat. She waited for him to make his move.

"I will show you…true pleasure…unknown one," the dark figure hissed in a husky voice. A flash of ice blue, a barely audible sound of hard, sharp teeth against flesh, and the warmth of the liquid, viscous, dripping down her neck was indeed the highest torture of this world. She unwillingly felt her body react to his actions, and she felt the dread course through her young pulsing veins as he chuckled evilly at her, knowing her weaknesses.

Shuddering, she hesitantly wrapped her thin legs around the slim waist of her guest, knowing what he came for. He sighed, and for a moment she was almost calm, his shallow but steady breath upon her neck like the sweet and mild wind of Zephyr—until one of his deathly cold hands gripped her neck in a harsh chokehold. He squeezed and dug his fingers into her skin, and her breath hitched as she stared up at him in fright, tensing for just a split second.

He then took the opportunity to tear off the rest of her skimpy rags with his other hand. He released his hold on her, and a glint of a silver canine tooth was all she saw before he slashed at her body, scraping off tender layers of her skin, and doubling the hurt. He eased a finger into the deep gash, feeling the extent of the wound and then he slowly traced patterns over her battered skin in her own dark red blood. Another sudden lunge and he was fully and completely on top of her, sating his hunger just with the overpowering smell of her blood oozing out at every fresh beat of her strained heart. He quickly stripped himself as well, and then he plunged himself deep into the girl, viciously penetrating her until her insides were raw and bloody as well.

Her mind became blank, a soundless scream echoed through her soul, and she felt her exposed body turn limp against the cold floorboards in her pain and in his ecstasy.

This had happened so many countless times ever since she could remember. Here in this dark chamber, she had cried out for help and salvation from someone, anyone—but no one ever heard her. She had learned to give up, and submit to the daily torture that was _he_ who visited her. She had taught herself to love the act that was her very own hateful torment; for that was the only way she could survive.

_How many years will pass by…before this ends? _

That was a question she asked herself over and over, but before she could think of an answer _he_ would always come, unfailingly, to remind her of her status.

This time was no different. She slowly opened her eyes that she had unconsciously closed in pain and fright, and saw that beautiful pair of horrendously cruel black eyes glistening in the dim light that had somehow managed to sneak through the dark walls of the place. Those eyes were eyes of a killer, a torturer, a villain—they were unfocused, giving off an aura full of avarice and malice. How could someone turn out to be like this? For even vampires were once…human.

_Who is he? _

_Has he forgotten his past life? _

These things she wanted to know, but they were forbidden questions she that she kept to herself in the deepest confines of her small heart. He was on a totally different level than her, and she had no right to ask him anything, to even say anything but "thank you" for his kind services to her. He was all powerful, all knowing, all encompassing—a god, more or less, no matter how satanic.

Deep down, she yearned for her freedom—freedom from this endless repetition, freedom from the pain of knowing that she was unequal to anyone. On the surface, she acted like she was compliant and condescending, but she was, after all, a _human_, not a vampire whose time had long since grated to a halt. No matter how small, she still contained that one flicker of hope that someday she would be set free, by another or by her own self. She wanted it to be the latter.

By now, the vampire before her had calmed down from his initial feral behavior. She could tell he had regained his sense and composure, when he sat up and started to put his discarded clothes back on. She reached out for her own rags from where he had thrown them, and gingerly put them back on, trying her best to avoid the large wound on her upper torso and the mind-numbing, throbbing pain coming from the apex of her thighs.

She watched him as he stood up; made sure he had everything, and walked out of the room, slamming the door closed, leaving her in the dark.

He never looked back.

And she was always left broken, her hope for survival dashed to pieces…

_Please…_

_Byakuya…Don't leave, Byakuya-sama!_

**_A/N: _**Once again, I am sorry if this offended anyone. But, please leave a review!


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